AMONG THE FLORIDA KEYS 25 



a group of small ones, marked on the coast-chart as the 

 " Bow-leg Keys," I should think some eight miles north of 

 Indian Key, when the guide found it necessary to run the 

 vessel through a very narrow channel, to reach some open 

 water beyond. He had vainly tried to hurry us from Indian 

 Key, as the tide was falling, and he was not to blame when, 

 though in mid-channel, the schooner ran hard aground. 

 Despite the liability of meeting sharks, we all stripped and 

 jumped overboard, and braced our backs against her sides 

 and stern. Every moment the tide was falling, and it seemed 

 destined that the precious light of April 25 should be lost 

 idly upon a soap-flat. 



I confess to feeling rather exasperated for a few moments, 

 until, with my field-glass, taking in our surroundings, I no- 

 ticed a great swarm of large birds of some sort hovering over 

 and beyond the nearest key. The day's work was now laid 

 out for us. Launching the tender, we rowed as near the key 

 as we could, then dragged the craft over the tenacious white 

 " soap " the rest of the way. 



On the first island were found no birds save a score or 

 more of Louisiana Herons that were nesting, and a pair of 

 Red-bellied Woodpeckers, which had a nest in a hole in a 

 dead limb of a black mangrove. It was the next island, half 

 a mile beyond, over which the cloud of birds were hovering 

 and alighting, as we could now see. So we pushed along 

 over the " soap," until, as we neared the island, I waded on 

 ahead, camera in hand, for a snap-shot. As I came around 

 one end of the island, there was consternation among the 

 inhabitants, and a confused flapping of great wings was seen 

 and heard, beating the tree-tops and the air. Two or three hun- 

 dred, probably, rose, though many were out of sight farther 

 around the island when I made my snap-shot. There were 

 Brown Pelicans, Florida Cormorants, and Man-o'-War Birds. 



